Bodies On The Hill ✸ Stiles Stilinski

[ 002 ] . . . dead girl walking

When she opened her eyes for the first time, the world was dark and smelled of the earth. She took a breath in and then coughed immediately as the air around her was stale.

What the fuck?

Her body felt stiff like it hadn't moved in days and it took everything in her to not jolt upright at the sight of complete darkness.

Carefully, April took careful glances at where she was, or at least tried her best to because it was so dark she couldn't even see herself when she looked down.

She too another deep breath, this time through her nose, and tried her best to move her hands. First, she wiggled her fingers, and when the prickly sensation that you get after your hands get numb went away, she moved her hand.

Then, her arm. Soon her legs, and then she was trying to carefully sit up, but was stopped by what felt like a wooden lid. And then she felt extremely claustrophobic.

She quickly looked around as best she could, and when she came to her conclusion, she almost passed out.

Oh god

April Cowen was living her greatest and worst fear in the entire world — being buried alive. She felt like her throat was closing in, she dreaded confined spaces and did her very best to avoid them at all costs.

Apparently not she thought as she banged and banged on the coffins door. Her attempts were useless and she doubted anyone could actually hear her.

How long had she been trapped in there? April searched her mind, but she couldn't recall anything. The last thing she could vividly remember was seeing a pair of yellow eyes watching her from within the thick brush of the woods.

Then the world had gone black and she was waking up here, confined and scared. April hadn't died, she knew that for sure. There was just no way.

"HELLO?" She screamed as loud as she could but quickly winced at the sound of her voice bouncing off the coffin walls and back to her.

She sounded like she hadn't had water in weeks. Maybe that's why her throat burned her so much, and if she hadn't had any water, then she probably hadn't eaten either which would explain the hunger pangs she was getting.

"You're stuck in a box, April." She mumbled in a sing-song voice, sarcasm deep in her tone.

"That's why you're hungry you idiot!"

April grunted in frustration as she did her best at trying to kick the lid open. After a few minutes she took a break, and it was then that she started to sob.

She was alone. Alone and scared, just like how she'd been the other night at the Reserve.

Another wave of panic crashed through her and she was thrashing around like a mad women, the sounds she was making almost animalistic as she clawed and kicked.

That's when the lid made a small cracking sound, as if it had just been popped open slightly. April was huffing as she caught her breath, the adrenaline in her veins pumping more now than ever.

She pushed softly on the lid, and when it didn't budge, she shoved it. However, every time she pushed it up bits of dirt fell through and landed in her face. April coughed as more fell down on her, this time some falling in her mouth.

That's when the panic set in again. She really was buried six feet under. April sucked in one final breath before she threw herself up at the lid causing buckets of dirt to sink in on her, this time however, it was more moist then the bits that had previously fallen on her.

She sobbed heavily when she felt the weight of all the dirt caving in and landing on her chest. She felt like she was suffocating.

"Please!" She sobbed.

"HELP ME."

April Cowen felt like she was dying, and she was all alone. She cried like a child as she gasped for air that felt like it would never come to her.

If she hadn't been so filled with panic and fear, April would've noticed that her lungs didn't burn like they did before when she needed air.

No, the only thing that April Cowen felt more than fear and panic, was hunger. She felt practically starved. It was that need to satisfy the hunger that made her claw at the now soaked dirt that was practically mud in her hands.

Eat.
Eat.
Eat.

April could hear a drumming in her ears as she clawed and clawed her way out of the ground. But it wasn't her heart that was pounding in her ear, no this one was too calm for all the movement she was doing.

And then another beat joined the existing one in her ears. Before April knew it, she had managed to claw herself out of the ground.

It was pouring in Beacon Hills, a storm that would definitely go down in the history books as one of the craziest and bizarre.

"But it's August." She whispered, voice still raspy and throat burning even more then it had moments before. Now out of the ground, April took notice to her appearance.

Her nails were caked in dirt, the clothes she wore the same if not more. And even as the rain slowly washed parts of it away, the dirt and grass was still there. Stained on the fabric as though to say:

'You will remember this, we are here to stay'

The once white dress she wore was ruined, the flats that had adorned her feet were long gone as she sluggishly dragged her body from out of the grave she had clawed out of.

April sat in the muddy grass as she studied the headstone carefully.

APRIL COWEN
March 7th, 1995 — August 19th, 2011
A loving daughter and friend

She traced her name repeatedly, almost as if it were brail and she was trying to remember what it said. Then, her eyes drifted over to the flowers that were placed on either side of the stone, it's petals almost gone as they wilted from the surplus amount of rain that was killing them.

They're drowning she thought as she scooped them up and then threw them in the grave from hence she came from.

When she looked back at the stone, she noticed it. How could she have missed it before? Delicately, April picked up the white conch shell and smiled as she lifted it up to her ear.

Silence.

A frown set upon her lips as pulled away and studied it for a moment before pulling it back to her ear to listen.

Silence.

Angry, she threw the shell at the headstone and it shattered into tiny little fragments. Where was the ocean? The calm serenity of her childhood that had been bottled up and locked into the shell forever.

She felt incomplete — like a part of her was missing. The ache in her chest throbbed, the drumming picked back up again in her ears, and the hungry bull reared it's ugly head inside of her.

She was starving.